


Show Me

by JessicaPendragon



Series: Canon Keela Lavellan [15]
Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-30
Updated: 2017-08-30
Packaged: 2018-12-21 19:36:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11951175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JessicaPendragon/pseuds/JessicaPendragon
Summary: Keela holds out her hand and he does not waste a moment in taking it. The hesitation comes later when she sits atop his lap, fingers undoing the knots of her robe and letting it pool somewhere forgotten. This is no moment of rapturous abandon in the dark, no desperate, quiet collision beneath filtered sunlight. Now there is time enough to cherish, to think, and he is at a loss where to begin.





	Show Me

It is almost more than two months into their campaigns upon the Exalted Plains and Emerald Graves when word is finally received about the Empress’ grand ball. In the end it is not Celene that invites them to the Winter Palace but her cousin. Solas knows the difference will matter in some way, the intricacies of court a tangle of webs that feel the slightest vibrations of prey across the whole, but for now he is only relieved to finally have a reprieve from the endless fighting. 

Bodies creak louder than leather saddles when they dismount in Skyhold’s courtyard, bodies carrying dirt from lush forests and clothes covered in halla hair from the plains. No one speaks. They have spent weeks in constant company, sharing stories and testing limits, and the greatest gift will be the silence of solitude promised for a few days before the Inquisition travels to Halamshiral next. He looks forward to the quiet of his books and paints, to drifting through the Fade without stumbling upon the bloody battles and broken boughs of his legacy. 

Still, Solas does not wish to be completely alone.

A complication he did not intend although he is loathed to use that term any longer. He has come to realize that she is anything but a mistake. It is foolish to feel this easiness growing inside him with every passing day, for what will come such hope cannot be allowed, and yet it is impossible to ignore it with every one of his heartbeats she claims as her own.

Keela catches his gaze, fingers brushing against his as she passes onward to her tower, and there is a wordless invitation in the way her touch and lips curl. She does not wait for an answer, if he can even offer one. She is not a complication, but it is still  _complicated,_ more so now that everything has changed yet again. He should not have kissed her in the Fade, should not have given into his heart beneath the ruins of the Dalish, should not have given into his desires against the sacred trees of her people, but when he thinks of her it is not regret that first comes to mind.  

So it is with little surprise he finds himself in front of her quarters late that night. A part of him hopes she might be asleep as he knocks quietly and the little voice is forgotten when the door swings open shortly after. She wears a silk robe, heavy golden embroidery down the dipping collar, but he is drawn to the lustrous shine of her hair, the shimmer of exposed skin glowing in warm candlelight.

“Hello, Solas.”

“I did not wish to disturb you-”

“But here you are anyway.” 

He laughs at her playful smirk, at the root of his transgressions explained in so few words - he shouldn’t, but he does. “Yes.”

Keela holds out her hand and he does not waste a moment in taking it. The hesitation comes later when she sits atop his lap, fingers undoing the knots of her robe and letting it pool somewhere forgotten. This is no moment of rapturous abandon in the dark, no desperate, quiet collision beneath filtered sunlight. Now there is time enough to cherish, to  _think_ , and he is at a loss where to begin.

His confusion must show and Keela does not huff or blush, tease or shame. Solas has not known her to be patient, but there is something gentle in the way she reaches for his hands. He cannot picture her taking decades to make a decision, centuries to choose the right words like his ancient kin, and for the first time it does not bother him. “When was the last time you did this, before me?” 

He brings her knuckles to his lips to kiss every one with affection and to hide his grimace. “A long time. Show me,” he asks, pleads, for she is something he desperately wants to get right.

Together they run down her sides, atop the hard flesh of her thighs, and he receives a happy hum as he pauses to knead into tired muscles. She leans forward and the demand is clear in the way she tilts her head to the side. The heavy scent of her perfume fills him as he kisses up and down the column of her neck, a hand diving into her hair to bring her closer while the other is brought to rest atop a breast.

It is a challenge he is more than willing to entertain - lips searching for hidden treasures while his fingers roll and pull below. He learns she is not overly fond of having her ears gripped between soft teeth but finds she shivers when he sucks at the juncture of her collar bone. A memory from their first night together encourages him to bite into her shoulder while he gives a gentle tug and the sound she makes sends sparks of arousal through him.

“Solas…” she whispers, nails digging into his arms as she shifts against him, and he does not wait this time for her to navigate his hand between her thighs. He takes his time, parting slick skin to tease just barely inside her heat, dragging more moans from her lips as his touch grows bolder, deeper. Eyes watch hers flutter closed, ears listen for the rhythm of her pleasure, fingers strum to find the correct notes and have them ringing out against stone.

With a sudden gasp she catches his wrist in a tight grip. “ _There_.”

Her legs quiver as he obeys. Hips begin to grind into his hand, shudders shaking the smooth surface of her stomach, and he can hear the edge approaching with each ragged breath. Without thinking his free hand lifts to wrap around her throat, grip pulsing lightly in a wordless query. Desire darkens the yellow of her gaze as she gives an eager nod. He squeezes until he can feel the rapid beating of her heart and watches her unravel as if he is the one held in place. It is a wondrous sight when her body tightens, mouth opening in a silent cry of release, and there is no room for regret - only an awe that she finds him worthy enough to witness.

His hold is loose and gentle as it takes a few moments for her to come down and he cannot help some smug sense of satisfaction to see the sheen across her skin, the haze of bliss lingering on her face. He may be woefully out of practice, but he is not without a hope. 

His confidence wavers when Keela presses close and pulls a groan from his lips with a single, torturous roll. He can feel the clever grin against his cheek as she whispers in his ear. “My turn.”


End file.
